


Erosion

by crystalrequiem



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Angst, John Delgado as Dadsona, M/M, Sick Character, TLDR Craig gives Dadsona a heartattack, WIP, comfot, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 06:57:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12053700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalrequiem/pseuds/crystalrequiem
Summary: Craig's trying to take his best bro's advice to heart and take things easier. He's been doing better lately, but this week's just not one he can afford to slack on.So of course, now's the time to get sick.(Even mountains fall apart eventually with enough wind and water.)





	Erosion

**Author's Note:**

> Whattup. I know I have a billion and one unfinished projects, but this thing is intended as a quick two shot so hopefully I can get away with it. 
> 
> I feel like I get Craig waaaay too well, so this fic kind of comes out of those feelings. Hopefully you guys enjoy it and I'm not just punching the void with my feels. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos 100% loved.

                He’s trying to take it a little easier these days on his best bro’s advice, really he is. But River’s had a cold, and the girls are playing their last few games of the season. Business hasn’t been fantastic either. He’s low-key fighting with some of the product producers over price increases, trying to figure out if he’s got enough profit to run a new marketing campaign next year. Honestly, with so much work to do, he should ask Smashley to take the kids, but then they’d be an hour away from the softball pitch, and he’s coaching anyway, so what’s the point? Besides, Smashley’s got that important conference for work coming up in a few days, and he knows she’s stressed too. It simply makes the most sense for the girls to stay with him. It’s just this week. Just seven days, and he can breathe easy.

                River’s cold turns out to be harmless enough, but a fussy and feverish baby is never fun. He foregoes his morning jog Sunday, and stays up with her all Sunday night. Her fever finally breaks for good at some point Monday, and by Tuesday he’s convinced she must be well. Briar and Hazel miraculously avoid River’s contagion, thank god.

                The last softball practice of the year Tuesday night is stress itself. All of the moms want to take him out to thank him for a great season of coaching, and of course he has to go to be polite. Briar and Hazel are easily enticed with the promise of pizza, and he doesn’t have the heart to disappoint them. Besides, with River feeling better He doesn’t have a gracious excuse to back out. He lets the girls gorge themselves on cheese and grease, and play with the arcade games until River starts to nod off. By the time he’s got all the kids in bed, he realizes there’s a batch of athleisure designs that need to be signed off and a good amount of product to research. 

                He stays up way too late Tuesday night, but the work has to be finished. When he blinks at his alarm at bleary 5:00 AM, he doesn’t know how many hours of sleep he’s actually caught. Unfortunately, the world doesn’t care. River is already hungry and awake, and he has too much to do.

                It seems a bit chillier than normal when he steps out for a jog on Wednesday morning, but he doesn’t think on it long. He breezes through his run, gets back in time to make the girls’ breakfast and pack their lunches, and drives them to class still half-asleep as per usual. Exercise in the morning really helps him wake up, no matter how tired he feels. He stops for groceries, get back home, and puts his nose to the pavement finishing up his marketing plan and budgeting allocations. Working from home isn’t easy with River there to distract him, but he’s long gotten used to it. Still, he doesn’t quite manage to get enough done. He figures he can finish things up after dinner.

                This time, when he rolls up to grab the girls, he notices the scrap of paper in every child’s hand. Was it report card time already? Briar and Hazel proudly march to the car as soon as he pulls into the carport, both with excellent grades. Hazel has one or two more B’s than Briar, but he wouldn’t dare complain. He remembers getting straight C’s at their age. He gives them each his warmest hug, tells them he couldn’t be prouder. And when they ask to go to the movies, it’s not like he can say _no_. He’s got a headache, but their grades are really good and he wants them to feel rewarded, so.   

                The movie runs late, and the girls love it, but by the time he gets everyone to bed, his head is pounding and he still has work to do. The dishes need doing and the counter needs tidying and he doesn’t remember the last time he cleaned the bathroom sink. He falls asleep face-first in a warm basket of freshly dried laundry, sitting on the ground in front of the washer-dryer.

 

* * *

 

 

                He wakes up to a phone call.

                “Bro! Ready for our morning run? I’m outside your house.” John’s voice echoes over the phone. Craig blinks out at the world and doesn’t remember hitting the answer button. His mind processes at a glacial pace. It’s like there’s a thick layer of cotton over everything, making everything hard to see and even harder to move through. He feels dizzy.

                “You know it,” Craig answers, or tries to. His voice gets caught in his throat and he coughs.

                Oh no. River’s cold. He’d heaved a sigh of relief too soon!  

                “You okay, dude?” Poor John sounds worried over the phone and even though his head aches, Craig struggles against a smile. Even after all these years, his roomie still wants to take care of him. It feels… nice. Really nice.

                “I’ll be alright. Nothing a good jog and some orange juice can’t fix.” And some Tylenol. And maybe a few cough drops. He tries to get up, only to remember that he’s been spooning a basket of laundry all night as the clean clothes tumble across the floor. His body does not thank him for the strange sleeping arrangement.

                “Do you maybe wanna take this morning off? You sound…” No. He doesn’t want a rain check on this. As tired as he is, he _needs_ this. John’s presence eases a different kind of exhaustion.  He doesn’t worry long over the spilled laundry or how he’ll probably need to redo it later.  John’s here. He starts moving toward the door.

                “Nah, man. But I am running behind. Still need to feed River. Hope you don’t mind waiting just a bit.” He unlocks the handle and pulls without really thinking things through.

                “Oh, I don’t mind, but—ack!” John, who had been leaning against his door through the whole conversation, suddenly tips forward, into the house and Craig’s arms. Normally, he’d be able to catch John with ease, but he’s not on his A-game today. He stumbles, catches himself hard against the wall. His phone is not so lucky. It goes clattering across the floor, suddenly silent. The one in John’s hand emits a mournful dial. Craig doesn’t notice. He’s distracted by the warmth and feel of his best friend. He wants to cling to the man, nestle into him and _sleep_.

                No time for that.

                “Hey,” he murmurs, and hopes he doesn’t sound too dopey. His voice rings heavy with sinuses, and his head throbs in time to his heartbeat...  he’s probably pretty gross, actually.

                “H-hey. Sorry for, uh, dropping in on you like this.” John’s clutching his arms just a bit too tight, eyes wide.   _Fuck_ he’s cute. What’s he doing hanging out with a mess like Craig? “Um. Should I close the door?”

                “Right,” he laughs at himself, and has to spend way too much effort to get upright. John’s got the door closed and is handing him his phone before he knows what’s happening. He gives himself a mental shake and gets moving.

                He spends most of his morning feeling like he’s drifting through that cotton fog. John watches him stumble around pathetically as he changes River’s nappy. He doesn’t make it back to the kitchen before he finds himself shoved into a living room chair.

                “Sit, Craig, Jesus. Let me help you out here.” John finds the orange juice and the Tylenol without him even asking. And before he knows what’s what, John’s got River in her highchair and is dishing Gerber fruit from the glass jar like a pro. He’s so good with her, babbling nonsense as he lets the spoon zoom toward her, impersonating a variety of vehicles. River watches his face, and laughs and laughs.

                …Is it normal to feel like he wants to cry right now? Craig’s pretty sure it’s not normal.  He clutches his glass of orange juice tight, like it’s some kind of lifeline. If he sniffles once or twice, he’s going to blame it on the cold.

                “You sure you want to run today? We can just reschedule for when you’re feeling better. Heck, I can even take the girls to school today, if you need me to.” John and River are both watching him. John, expression attentive, is loosely holding a tiny spoon. River’s hands are waving at him, strawberry and banana smeared around her mouth.    

                Girls. School. Jogging. Right. Something in his brain restarts. He blinks away his soppy, domestic fantasies.

                “It’s cool bro. Exercise is usually how I drive colds away faster. I just gotta stick with the program.” He pushes himself up, easier now that the Tylenol has had some time to work. How long had he been sitting there staring John down? “If you don’t mind to get the princess washed up, I’ll go set up the stroller, and we can head out.” His best bro doesn’t move immediately; just squints at him, frowning.

                “If you say so…” John allows after just a beat too long. Craig smiles winningly, and goes to find River’s transportation. Not as much time for a run as usual, with him sleeping in on accident. They’ll have to cut their jog short anyway to wake Briar and Hazel in time for school.

                For the first time since their college days, Craig is winded before John as they jog. He’d expected as much. He really does work through most colds this way, so it’s not like this extra-achy exhaustion is unknown to him. But John looks at him like he’s going to fall over and may need to ride the stroller home. It’s sweet, really. Craig just basks in his Bro’s worried affection and tries to play it off. If he really is leaning a bit too hard on River’s stroller, he’s not going to make a big show of it.

                By the time they get back, there’s almost no time for breakfast, and Craig’s head is clearing.  John is an absolute godsend who stays to help throw some eggs together as Craig rushes the twins awake and makes their lunches. He gets all three girls loaded in the car with not a minute to spare.

                “See you soon, bro,” John calls softly from the garage doorway, as Craig finishes strapping River into her car-seat. “Take it easy, okay?” Craig shoots him what he _hopes_ is a winning smile and wanders over.

                “No promises,” He teases, and tries not to sniffle. Curse you, headcold! God, he just wants to kiss John right now, but he knows better than to spread his germs. He presses his nose to John’s forehead instead.

                “Take care of yourself.” It’s a command, more than anything. John’s pouting in his arms, annoyed that he won’t just take the day off. Craig smiles. Really, he’s feeling better. If John’s around he feels like he can do anything.

                “Da-ad. Come on!” Hazel whines from the back seat. Craig laughs, and lets John go. Ugh. Why is that so hard? Running helped shake him out of his lethargy, but walking away from his best bro is literally the last thing he wants to do. He does it anyway.

                “See you at the game Saturday? Last one of the season!” He has to shout over the sound of his engine as he starts the car, leaning out the van window. John just smiles and waves.

                “Wouldn’t miss it!” he shouts back as he retreats out the garage door, and starts walking back to his own house. Craig sighs after him, and tries to focus on getting the girls to school.

                “You okay, Dad?” Briar asks. When he glances her way in the rear-view, he sees her concerned face looking back. Hazel is affecting disinterest in the neighboring seat, but still quite obviously listening.  He feels like a huge jerk for worrying them, but he doesn’t have time to beat himself up over it. He smiles the warmest smile he can manage and backs the van out onto the road.

                “Just got a case of the sniffles,” he allows. They don’t seem to quite believe him. There’s none of the usual squabbling or chatter as he ferries them to school. Even River seems a little subdued. He has to keep glancing at them in the mirror to make sure no one has fallen asleep.

                The twins file out once he pulls up to school. They still care enough to look back and wave at him before they head into the school doors. It’s nice to know they haven’t decided he’s too uncool yet. Still, he wonders if he’s doing something wrong. It doesn’t seem like his poor girls should be this concerned. Maybe he’s stressing them out. Should he try harder to fake it?

                He heads back home and tries not to dread tonight’s game with every fiber of his body.

 

* * *

 

                After he gets back, he sets River up in her harness, making sure to wash his hands before daring to touch her. He can’t afford to just pass this damn cold back and forth with her. She settles in with nary a complaint, quite used to their little rituals. He feels extra achy today, and River’s weight pulls unusually heavy at his shoulders and back, but he’s got to keep going. River gets fussier when she’s not able to see what he’s doing, and he’s far too exhausted to negotiate with a grumpy baby. He tries not to think too hard about what things will be like when she starts getting too old to just cart around like this. Girl has to learn to walk some time….. Is that supposed to be soon?

                If he’s honest, he doesn’t completely remember the workday. He knows he got… _something_ done. The Tylenol starts to wear off around lunchtime. Fever lingers at the edges of his consciousness, just waiting for the medicine to recede. He knows it’s there. He can feel it, like an echo of an ache he remembers too well. He takes the next dose as quickly as he can manage after that. It’s a game night, and he needs to make it through. There’s only two games left. He can’t miss this.

                 He psychs himself up with some stretching, a few tired pushups and a quick shower before he goes to get the girls from school. He tries to make himself look less ill somehow, gets his hair styled in place and wraps himself in a sleeker hoodie than usual, one of the new prototype designs.

                “Don’t give me that look,” He mock-chides as he straps River into her car seat. “I know I’m a mess, but we don’t want Briar and Hazel to be worried, do we River?” She babbles back, and tangles her tiny fingers in his hoodie strings. He sighs and tries to get away without choking himself or upsetting her. He’s half successful. River does cry most of the way to the school, but she calms down when he passes her teething ring back easily enough. He blasts a few of her favorite songs through the radio, and soon enough she’s back to bouncing happily in her seat and smashing her toy against the plastic of her carseat. Craig can’t help smiling at her image in the rearview every time they hit a stop light. Ugh. Is being sick supposed to make him such a sap?

                Briar and Hazel hop excitedly into the car with bright announcements of, “Hi dad!” He waits for them to settle and get their seatbelts on before pulling away. They don’t seem to remember their worries from this morning. He doesn’t want to remind them. The next time he feels a cough crawling up his throat, he chokes it down. And if his eyes water and his chest spasms strangely, they don’t seem to notice.

                “Where are we going?” Hazel asks, peering out at the cars going by. Briar is busy waving River’s toy around to amuse her, but she seems tuned in to the question.

                “Well, girls. Got your equipment in the back seat and I happen to know two young ladies with some excellent grades. We ate mostly healthy all week. Do you think my girls would promise to get their homework done after the game if we ran out for a happy meal?” There is a breath of blessed silence, and then an explosion of noise as they _promise, promise, promise!_ He chuckles. Distraction successful.

                When they pull into the parking lot, he hands both girls enough cash to order for themselves and River, and sets about fighting his wiggly baby into her harness. “You two can go ahead and order,” he tells them. He knows they like to feel grown-up. Briar beams at him, and for a moment, Hazel does too. But then she asks,

                “Okay, what do you want, Dad?” He blinks.

                “Oh, Uh.” The question catches him by surprise. He tries to fumble for an answer, but the thought of food honestly turns his stomach. There’s too much drainage in the back of his throat to make him anything but nauseous. “Just, some apple slices for River would be good,” Hazel and Briar evaluate him with identical skeptical expressions. Okay, wrong answer? Maybe he should have lied and said something like, ‘ _oh, I ate at home!’_

                “…I’m getting you fries,” Briar announces, and the twins run off before he can tell them otherwise. It’s probably not normal for a grown man’s kids to try to take care of him like that, is it? He takes advantage of their absence to reach into the glove compartment, find a tissue, and blow his nose. He can feel that cotton-fog making its way back, aching, just at the edge of awareness.

                Oh no. He forgot to bring the next dose of medicine with him. He lets his head fall against the roof of the car with a dull _thud,_ and leans back down to grab River’s diaper bag. She gives him a curious stare-down for his trouble.

                “Look, I know. Daddy’s a total idiot.” He sighs at her. She babbles something he takes as agreement.

                However suspiciously they hand him his fries, the girls seem content to fly towards the play-place as soon as they can manage. They’re almost at the point of being too old for it, but he doesn’t see a reason to talk them out of something they enjoy so much. Especially when it lets him comb through his coaching notes one more time uninterrupted.

                After that… things are a little hazy. He doesn’t honestly know how he gets through the game. He doesn’t forget his plans and positions, and he remembers to shout instructions to the team as they play. He stays focused. But he can feel his voice tearing at his already weakened throat, and there’s no way to just swallow the coughs this time. Fever returns with an angry abandon as the last of the medicine wears off, making everything feel cold and achy. He’s getting worse, and he knows it.

                The girls win. He’s grateful for it. The excitement of their game helps distract from their low-energy coach. Melissa sidles up to him, her daughters’ equipment bundled into a thick duffle and resting against her hip.

                “The team certainly couldn’t have done it without such a great coach,” she smiles, and it makes him feel even more tired than before. “Why don’t you let us take you out for—”

                  _Please don’t say pizza in front of the girls, please don’t say pizza in front of the girls—_ He doesn’t think he could manage another late night out, and he already took them out once today, and they still need to get their homework done and.

                “That’s really nice of you Miss Melissa, but we promised Dad we’d go straight home and get our homework done.” For a moment, he doesn’t recognize Briar’s voice. When he does, he turns to her in confusion. She’s talking to Melissa, but her eyes are on her Dad. Hazel, normally one to take advantage of any situation that might land her pizza and some arcade money, only sighs.

                He’s still very confused when they troop back to the car.

                “You guys played really well tonight,” He reminds them, trying to keep his cheer going. He just has to get them home, and he can take another dose of medicine. He can do this.

                “Yeah, I guess,” Hazel muses. They aren’t usually this subdued after a game.

                “Is… did something happen at school?” He muses aloud as he straps River into her chair. When he looks up, Briar and Hazel are both staring at him in confusion.

                “No?” Hazel offers, at the same time Briar blurts, “School’s fine, why?”

                “No real reason!” He backpedals as quickly as he can, “River, please move your foot. Why are you—There!” He gets his fussy youngest buckled, hands her a teething ring from the diaper bag and starts toward the driver’s seat. The world wobbles slightly when he stands up, and he has to catch himself on the car hood to keep from tripping. Uh oh. That’s not good. Should he be driving like this?

                He thinks it over a minute, but he honestly doesn’t see much of an alternative. Especially not one that doesn’t scare the hell out of the kids. He slaps his own cheeks hard to get the blood flowing, and rolls his neck a few times. Wake up Craig. You got this.

                He starts up the engine and turns around to make sure no cars are coming before he can back out. Briar and Hazel are both still staring.

                “Uh?” He murmurs intelligently. “Is everything alrigh—”

                “ _Dad_.” How Hazel manages to pack so much patronizing disdain into a single title of authority, he’ll never know. She’s going to be terrifying when she’s older. He’s kind of looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time. “That’s what _we_ want to know.”

                “I’m fine.” He smiles, but inwardly he’s berating himself. He made his girls worry again. He’s doing this wrong. He’s messing up. It’s just a shitty cold, it shouldn’t be this big of a deal. Why is he—

                Briar unbuckles her seatbelt. When she leans forward and puts the back of her wrist to his forehead, he just about feels his heart break. She frowns, tiny furrow of concern between her brows deepening.

                “Dad, you’re super sick.”

 

* * *

 

                How he makes it home after that is anyone’s guess. He should honestly have called John and left the car in the parking lot, but he really wasn’t thinking straight. In a wild change of pace, he doesn’t have to fight the girls to do their homework. He _does_ have to constantly reassure them afterward. _No, you don’t need to call your mother. Or John. I’ll be alright, it’s just a cold. Look, I’ve got medicine, I’ll be fine in no time. No really, Briar, please don’t worry so much—_ they even warm up a bowl of soup in the microwave while he’s still waiting for the Tylenol to work its magic, face down on the kitchen counter.

                “Here, you always make soup when we’re sick.” Briar is edging the bowl toward him, garnished with a spoon. Even through the exhaustion he feels shamed by his children.  His head pounds. How long ago did he take that medicine? It’s already pitch dark outside, and the girls’ homework is all packed away. Wasn’t he supposed to make them something else to eat?

                “Thanks sweetheart. But I need to cook—” He catches sight of the table, where both girls have made themselves peanut butter sandwiches. Hazel has managed to get River into her highchair and is pouring her small handfuls of cheerios with an expression of patient annoyance.

                “Eat your soup, dad. We’re not babies.” She chimes helpfully. He loves them so much, and he’s so proud, but at the same time he feels like he’s failed them. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s too tired to deal with these emotions. He slowly shovels a mouthful of soup into his face and tries not to think about how heavy the spoon weighs in his hand.

                The girls, convinced that they need to show off how adult they are, even wash the dishes and babysit River. They do have to get his help to change River’s diaper, but they seem to begrudge asking him. He finds them arguing over whether they need to wake him up or not, with River wailing in Briar’s arms. After he’s got River cleaned up, before he knows what’s what, Hazel’s pushing him towards his room. “Go to sleep. We know how to put River to bed.”

                Most adults wouldn’t trust their pre-adolescent kids to obey a bedtime on a school night with no parental supervision, much less with a baby involved, but he’s too tired to argue properly. He knew they could handle River for the most part. He guessed they got more practice at Smashley’s place than here. He’s not sure how he feels about that, or whether he needs to have some kind of stern discussion with her soon. Or maybe he’s the one who’s been acting a fool, and he’s just holding his little girls back. He doesn’t know. His thoughts make his head pound. He passes out as soon as his body hits the mattress.

 

* * *

 

                River’s just gotten to the point to where she’ll sleep through the night. But every once in a while, she likes to remind him that she’s alive at two or three in the morning. He hears her wailing, and forces himself up before he knows he’s even awake. The pain and the cold hit moments later. His teeth chatter as he reaches for the pills he knows he needs to bring the fever down. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he has the good sense to be worried, but that part of him isn’t quite functioning at the moment. All he knows is River’s upset and he needs to go get her.

                He wonders, briefly, ashamedly, whether Briar or Hazel might come to bail him out again. The thought only makes him more determined to let them sleep. They shouldn’t have to pick up for their Dad’s slack.

                He feels so weak and miserable, he isn’t sure whether he can pick River up safely. But she’s _wailing_ , and insistent, and his head _hurts_ , so he lifts her from the crib. “Alright kid,” He murmurs, running his usual regimen of checkups. Her diaper still seems clean, and she doesn’t share his fever. On the other hand, she doesn’t seem willing to calm down any time soon, no matter how he rocks and shushes her.

                Teething, he remembers, and sighs. He resettles her on his hip and forces himself to trudge back to the kitchen. He tries not to linger on those frightening moments when the world lurches sideways and has to catch himself against the wall. _Do not crush the baby. Do not drop the baby_.

                It’s simple enough to grab River’s special teething ring from the freezer, but it takes much longer for her to calm back down. He doesn’t have enough energy to really comfort her properly; just holds her blearily in the dark of the kitchen, watching her cry and mouth the frozen toy in turn. It feels like forever before she settles, but at least by then his fever’s gone down enough that he’s stopped shivering. He hazards a glance at the microwave clock. 4:00 AM.

                “Don’t suppose you feel like going back to your crib, huh little lady,” he muses. River blinks up at him with wide eyes, still hiccoughing slightly. He cradles her and manages to trip his way back to the bed. Not supposed to do this, but he’s dead tired and he can’t stay awake long enough to fight River back into her crib. He collapses back onto his pillows and passes out with River on his chest, blankets still crumpled beneath him.

 

* * *

 

                Friday is an exercise in sheer willpower alone. He doesn’t wake up to his alarm. He doesn’t even wake up to River’s fussing. He wakes up to a small hand pushing at his shoulder and a voice. “Dad? River needs a diaper change and we have to leave for school soon.” The words don’t quite make sense. They rearrange themselves in his head, solidifying into something intelligible as he starts to feel awake. He regrets it instantly. His head hurts so badly that he thinks his ears are ringing. Not shivering with cold though, so he guesses that’s a plus.

                None of that matters. He gets up, catches sight of the time and nearly panics. He’s just waking up and the girls haven’t gotten dressed and they haven’t eaten and—except when he manages to turn back to Briar, there she stands, fully dressed for school. She’s got her hair pulled back in a ponytail, obviously un-brushed, but still.

                “Dad?” She asks again. Craig tries to flash her a smile. He forces himself weakly up. Gotta get the blood going. Need to take the girls to school. One more day. You can do this.

                “Think you could grab me the jug of orange juice, kiddo?” His voice sounds weaker than yesterday. He probably didn’t help anything shouting at the match. He’s going to be useless tomorrow. Maybe he can write things down and have John shout for him?

                Briar practically tears out of the room to get what he’s asked for, and he takes the opportunity to change into something a little less stale than yesterday’s clothes. He knows he needs to exercise, but there isn’t much time. He settles for a few weak sit-ups and pushups, just enough to make him feel awake for real. Briar passes him the orange juice and he chugs it like a man dying of thirst. _Orange juice, you’ve never failed me before. Please don’t fail me now_.

                He throws his daughter a slightly more genuine smile before rolling his shoulders and bolstering himself for the day. Food. River. School. He finds Hazel seriously contemplating her ability to change River’s nappy in the nursery.

                “I’ll take it from here, madam,” he calls with as much cheer as he can muster. It isn’t all fake. As much as he feels like he’s failed them somehow, he’s equally proud of how responsible and caring they’ve been toward their sister. He feels a little lighter.

                He gets his youngest put together, and notices that the twins have already changed her into a new onesie. One of them had even added a tiny barrette to River’s too-short hair.  Bittersweet. He heads to the kitchen, intending to throw some kind of food together before school, only to find the remains of cereal dotted across the table. They’ve even remembered their own lunches, though he suspects they might have doubled up on the peanut butter sandwiches. Do they even need him anymore?

                After that strange, easy morning, his day becomes something of a robotic exercise. School. Home. River. Work. River. School. Home. He has to keep going. Just one more day. One more day, and he can afford to really collapse. He doesn’t get enough done for the company. He’s going to have to make up for it next week, but he can do that. He just has to get through today, and the game tomorrow, and he’s so golden.  He repeats the words to himself, a constant mantra to keep him awake and keep him moving.

                His head _aches_ no matter how carefully he keeps up with the Tylenol, and he’s gone through an entire box of tissues today. Of course, today would be the day that orange juice finally fails to do the trick. Craig wants so badly to curl into a miserable ball and sleep, but he has to stick with it. River’s to the point where he can leave her in her playpen and catch a nap every once in a while, but the way he feels today, he doesn’t trust himself to wake up again if she needs him. Besides, he has to get the girls from school, then he needs to make sure they get their homework done, and then dinner and then…

                There is no “and then.” He passes out on the couch before the girls get through their math work, and doesn’t stir when Briar tucks a quilt over him hours later.


End file.
